The Riddle
by Richie117
Summary: Wilson has a secret. Will House find out what's going on? ...okay, House is a little OoC here, but I can't help it ;D
1. Monday

**_Disclaimer_: My father promised me once, that he'll repurchase the copyright of "House MD" for me but he backed out of it. Damn him... *cries***

**A/N: The story is based on the song "Riddle" by En Vogue.  
****Great thanks for translation from Polish go to dzio.  
****It's my very first fic so please, be gentle :)  
****R&R are loved!  
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The clock on my nightstand read 5:55. I didn't even have to open my eyes to know that. From behind the closed bathroom door I could hear Wilson coming out of the shower and that was proof enough. Seriously - you could set your watch by Wilson's morning routine. Unless I felt like interrupting him - if you know what I mean...

I don't usually wake up at such an ungodly hour. Especially on Mondays. But after such an amazing weekend I simply didn't feel like sleeping.

Wilson surprised me. Not for the first time, by the way. On Friday, during lunch, he informed me that we were going away for a weekend. A friend gave him the key to his cottage, somewhere in the wild. For a moment I wondered which one of Wilson's friends owned a cottage out of town, but I decided it didn't matter. I didn't plan on going anyway.

"House, it's going to be fun!" he said.

Yeah, right. Two days without cable and fresh supply of Vicodin. Out of habit I started calculating how much I would have to take with me for... Stop! Why am I doing this? I'm not going anywhere!

"No way," I said categorically. "And in case that wasn't clear enough... NO WAY!"

But Wilson looked at me with those huge brown eyes, straight out of a Disney's cartoon...

Son of a bitch. He knew that when he looked at me like THAT, I couldn't refuse him anything. I shot him a glare that would instantly kill anyone else. And he only smiled with triumph and put the last piece of his sandwich in his mouth.

"I hate you. You know that?" I said, kicking his ankle under the table.

He didn't even flinch. He reached inside his pocket and handed me a prescription. For TWO bottles of Vicodin. Bastard. Reading my mind. I love him.

We left in the evening. I was sitting next to Wilson and trying to look displeased. Trust me - it wasn't easy. I had two and half bottles of Vicodin in my pocket and that fact alone made me want to kiss him. Instead I reached behind me and fished a can of beer out of the bag. I heard the bag with frozen pizza falling to the floor. Wilson did the shopping as if we were leaving for a week, at least.

"You do realize that, since we're going to some backwater, I expect us to do something besides eating?" I asked while he was paying for the supplies.

He frowned at me, as if I had said something inappropriate.

"I know you. As soon as we get there, you will suddenly remember million things that you forgot to take and you will spend two days whining at me to go back for them...

"But Mooooom, I'm a big boy now... I won't miss my toys," I said, watching the cashier's face with amusement.

"Right, grab a bag, I don't have ten hands." He pushed one bag in my direction. I quickly swallowed two Vicodins, picked the bag up in a way that suggested it contained dirty nappies, instead of groceries, and I followed Wilson.

The moment I got out of the car, my cane sank two inches into the muddy ground.

"Brilliant..."

Wilson was walking towards me and he saw what happened.

"Hang on, I'll help..."

Words died on his lips when he saw my furious glare.

"I'll get everything inside," he said without looking at me and opened the back door of his car. I watched as he gathered the bags and walked towards the cottage. I looked around me. The place really didn't look half bad. Not a soul in sight. I grabbed my cane and carefully limped after Wilson.

I went inside and my eyes immediately went to a huge leather couch in front of the fireplace. Whoever Wilson's friend was, they had great taste.

I heard Wilson putting food in the fridge.

"You want something?" I heard him calling from the kitchen.

The couch... Wilson...

"Yeah, you," I muttered, too softly for him to hear and I smiled to myself.

"What?" I saw his head poking out of the kitchen. "I'll take care of the dinner in a moment, I just need to get something from the car..."

But when he was passing me on his way to the door, I reached for his wrist and pushed him down on the couch. He demonstrated his quick reflex by grabbing my belt and dragging me down with him. I lost my balance and landed with my full weight on top of him. He groaned, but laughed as soon as he caught his breath.

"So you like it here?" he whispered, grazing my ear with his lips.

"That's entirely up to you..." I replied, searching for his mouth.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
**

Yes, it was definitely a wonderful weekend. I could have stayed there much longer, but we ran out of beer.

"Awake already?" I heard Wilson's surprised voice and reluctantly opened one eye. Wilson walked to the bed and leaned down to kiss my cheek. His romanticism was driving me mad. And sometimes it made me mad about him...

I put my hand on the back of his neck and turned my head. He growled when his lips met my mouth, instead of my cheek. I felt the taste of mint on his teeth.

"I love your morning breath..." I said when he pulled away.

"And I..."

Right. Before sleep we ate chips and drank beer. For a moment I felt sorry for him.

"That's what I like about you the most," I smiled at him.

"My breath?"

"That too. I meant that if you had been a woman, I would have ruined your makeup..."

Wilson took a step back and put his hands on his hips.

"You're unbelievable," he said and shook his head with amusement.

"I know."

Before I got dressed and reached the kitchen, Wilson already ate his breakfast and he was talking to someone on the phone. I didn't hear what he was talking about, because when he saw me, he suddenly got flustered and stopped in the middle of the sentence. I gave him a questioning look, but he turned his back to me.

"Yes, I'll be there as soon as I can," he said hurriedly and hung up.

"Who was that?" I asked, careful to keep my voice blank.

"They called from the hospital, it's about a patient," he threw over his shoulder, looking for his car-keys. "Sorry, House, I can't wait for you."

"But..."

I didn't manage to say anything more, because Wilson finally found his keys, grabbed his briefcase and stood next to me.

"See you at the hospital." He gave me a peck on the cheek and, before I had the time to turn, I heard the front door closing.

I shrugged and sat to eat my breakfast. Maybe it was just my imagination... And maybe I should take a closer look at that.


	2. Tuesday

**I want to thank everyone who added this story to their Favourites or Story Alert List! It means a lot to me :)**

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I watched over the rim of my coffee mug as Chase, Cameron and Foreman weaved their way through the crowded cafeteria garden. They found me easily - for some reason not a single soul decided to sit at any of the tables around me.

"Why did you call us?"

"Why here?"

"Do we have a case?"

"Yes!" I called, almost joyfully. "Differential diagnosis, people! Symptoms: troubles concentrating, altered behavior..."

"Are we diagnosing Wilson again?" frowned Chase.

"No!" I was pissed off at how fast they worked it out. "Why do you assume that every hypothetical patient is Wilson?"

"Because..." Foreman suspended his voice theatrically, "usually every hypothetical patient _is_ Wilson?!"

That was enough...

"Chase, Foreman - to the clinic!" I said in a commanding voice. "Cameron, there's a mountain of correspondence waiting for you on my desk."

I watched with satisfaction as all three of them stood up with dismayed expressions. Foreman and Cameron were already few steps away, but Chase stopped.

"Actually, why aren't you eating lunch with Wilson?" he asked, looking at some spot behind my back.

_None of your business_, I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue. I didn't want them to get suspicious.

"He had some urgent biopsy to perform" I repeated what Wilson had told me half an hour ago. "Why are you asking? Out of politeness or curiosity?"

"I thought I had seen him a while ago in that red car" he said, pointing to the place he had been staring at before. "There was a woman sitting behind the wheel..."

I turned rapidly, spilling my coffee all over the table. Unfortunately - the car was already gone behind the curve. I felt the blood draining from my face and I slowly glanced at my team. They looked as if they had seen a ghost.

"Something happened? Did you have a fight again?" Cameron returned to the table, sat next to me and for a moment I was worried she is going to hold my hand. Her concern was really annoying...

"Everything's fine, it's just that Wilson has been behaving strangely lately..."

_Dammit! Why the hell did I mention that?!_

Now even Foreman turned around.

"If you want us to treat him like a patient and diagnose him, why don't you start by searching your apartment?"

I looked at him with reproach. I wasn't going to search my home, not now and not ever! I only do it with all my patients because, first of all: they are morons, who don't know what in their homes could be dangerous. Second of all - they usually don't hide anything on purpose, because they don't expect us to break into their homes. If Wilson had anything to hide, he would definitely make sure I wouldn't find it. And third of all - it was my, _our_, home, so not only would I feel stupid, but Wilson would feel hurt, once he found out... All right, I exaggerated. If Wilson were hiding something, and it seemed that he was, the only person who had the right to feel hurt was ME!

"I'm not searching my home..." I said slowly and after a moment I smiled evilly. "But now YOU are going to search Wilson's office! And do it quickly, we don't know when he'll be back..."

They looked at each other and then at me. They must have noticed I wasn't kidding, because all three of them went back towards the hospital without a word.

"Check if the balcony door is open first!" I called after them, but they didn't even look back.

I sat for another ten minutes in the cafeteria garden, staring at the spilled coffee stain, starting to dry around the edges. I wondered what they might find and if they were going to find anything at all. Where the hell did Wilson go? With whom? And why was he lying to me?!... No, that one was stupid - he lied to me, because he was hiding something from me. But what? Didn't Chase say that Wilson had been in that car with some woman?... No, I'd rather not think about this... Everything was perfectly fine between us. Wilson couldn't be stupid enough to screw everything up... And if... I clenched my fists until I felt my fingernails digging into my palms. I couldn't wait a moment longer. I grabbed my cane and went to Wilson's office.

"And?" I asked, standing in the balcony door. Wilson did forget to lock it after our last _conversation_. How the hell could he kiss me and at the same time lie about some fucking biopsy?! Maybe that was what his three marriages were built upon?...

"House, we've been here for ten minutes" groaned Foreman.

"Twelve. But that's not what I was asking about" I said angrily. "Got anything? It's just an office, not a White House. And there's three of you..."

"There's nothing 'suspicious' here, House" stated Cameron. "No mysterious entries in his appointment book, no chocolates hidden in his desk... No female underwear... or any other kind for that matter. Nothing at all!"

"I think I've got something" said Chase. "Some huge receipt from a store outside the city..."

"That one I already know about" I interrupted him, but he apparently didn't hear me.

"...food, alcohol, six boxes of..."

"Hey! There's two of us after all" I called and tore the scrap of paper from his hand. Chase turned tomato red and it looked like he wished the ground would swallow him. He might even spend the rest of the day in the clinic, just to avoid seeing me... This whole situation amused me and for a second I forgot the reason for this whole investigation. But only for a second.

"Right, get out of here. Find something to do, so that I won't have to see you unless it's absolutely necessary" I said, walking towards the balcony.

"Where are you going?" I heard Cameron's worried voice behind me.

"And I don't want to hear any more questions!" I added categorically, looking over my shoulder.

There was only one person who could know the answer to the question that was bothering me...

"Cuddy, where is Wilson?" I yelled, barging into her office.

She was reading some documents and when she looked up at me, she was clearly irritated. Nothing new here.

"I am the hospital administrator, not Wilson's mother! You see all this?" she gestured at her desk. "Some people, unlike you, have to earn their paychecks. And Wilson" she glanced at her watch, "is having a lunch break right now. He's probably sitting in his office and wondering, why nobody is eating half his sandwiches..."

"Wilson is not at the hospital" I interrupted her. "And I have to know where he is!"

"Then call him and ask, and don't bother me anymore..." Cuddy wanted to get back to her paperwork.

"He's not answering his cell" I lied without batting an eye. "I have to know..."

"You HAVE TO let me work!" Cuddy gave me a tired look. "If you did anything to him again, or he to you, I don't want to know about it. I will probably find out anyway, because soon half of the hospital will be gossiping..."

"Cuddy..." I groaned, trying to look like a lost puppy.

It worked, because she looked up at me. But when she started to scrutinize me carefully, I knew it wouldn't be easy to get an answer. Damn it!

"If Wilson didn't tell you anything" she said slowly, "why should I?"

"Because..." I tried to think of some rational argument. Or irrational, as long as it would convince her. "Because you're my friend?"

"I'm also Wilson's friend, so if he asked me for discretion I wouldn't be able to tell you anything..."

"But he didn't ask?..." I held on to it as if it were a lifeline.

"No" she stated tersely and I breathed a sigh of relief. "Because he didn't say anything to me!"

Cuddy laughed and went back to scanning her documents. I thought franticly about anything else I might do in this situation. Suddenly I had an idea, but it was so... unlike me. I shook my head. I didn't want Cuddy to know just how desperate I was, but apparently I had no choice.

"And what if I..." I hesitated, it was so hard to say those words, "...took two extra hours in the clinic?" I finally pushed out in one breath.

She glanced up at me, clearly intrigued.

"Five!"

"Three!"

I smiled inwardly and thought _Got you!_ with satisfaction. My triumph didn't last long. Cuddy shook her head and laughed, genuinely amused.

"Well, House. In that case I'm truly sorry I don't know where Wilson is." She laughed even harder, seeing my confused expression.

I felt like an idiot. I furiously rapped my cane against the floor, but I knew it was pointless. Cuddy really had no idea where Wilson was. I turned on my heel and walked out of her office.

Wilson was going to pay for this.


	3. Wednesday

**Okay, I'm admitting it: House acts a bit unlike him here - at least for everyone who doesn't believe he can be afraid of losing Wilson ;-)**

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I watched the hand of the clock in exam room one slowly approaching twelve... And pass it, and then leave it behind... I know it's hard to believe, but this time I REALLY didn't feel up to examining another patient. I had to spend another hour in the clinic and I didn't know what to do with myself.

Hundreds of times before in situations like this I had called Wilson - for many years, just to talk with him for a while, have fun, gather my strength before the next patient... And since we _got together._.. Yeah, I know what you were thinking about - wild sex right under Cuddy's nose! Unfortunately, I have to disappoint you - nothing like that happened. Well, maybe one or two passionate kisses, before Wilson pushed me away and left, yelling and slamming the door behind him to make it look like his blush was nothing else, than the result of yet another argument with me. He insisted on it even after everyone at the hospital found out about _us_ - as always he cared about his reputation in front of his patients. Many times I wanted to put an end to this circus - walk up to him in the middle of the clinic, pull him to me and kiss him - so that no one (especially young, sexy female patients) would doubt that _he_ belongs only to me and I will get every guy (or girl!) who would try to take him away from me. But while I don't give a shit what patients think of me, HE couldn't live with the thought that someone might look away from him with disgust. I always realized that this was the way he was and I had to respect it, if I wanted to be with him... And now it seemed like it was too late for anything...

I haven't seen him yesterday, after he came back from his mysterious trip. He hid in his office right away and I couldn't force myself to go to him. One time I went out on a balcony and I saw him talking with another pathetic patient. I smiled, imagining myself barging into his office, grabbing the front of his shirt and yelling "What the hell was that supposed to mean?!" No, I wouldn't do that. For what? To hear another lie? What would it be this time? That the wife of a dying patient asked him for help choosing the coffin? I stood alone on the balcony, basked in a warm sunlight, and the thoughts whirling in my head became darker and darker...

I didn't dare ask him what he had been doing during his lunch break when we got home either. I was afraid he would lie to me. I was afraid he would tell the truth - that it's all over between us, but we can still be friends... That would be like him. I didn't want that. I wasn't ready for that. Deep inside me I felt I would NEVER be ready to be left all alone...

Wilson wasn't surprised by my silence. This was just the way I acted sometimes. I knew he explained it with the pain in my leg or a complicated case. He never pushed me. It was one of the things about him that I loved the most. His sensitivity. His intuition. Earlier, before we became closer (if that was possible, after all we had been through together as friends), I thought Wilson was very much like Cameron, that he's ready for everything in order to save the world. But Cameron is too pushy. She asks hundreds of unnecessary questions, after which I feel like withdrawing and not letting anyone in. And Wilson... Wilson looks at you with those chocolate eyes until you feel like he's seeing right through you. And while he does it, he makes that sad, unhappy face that makes you start talking, just to make _him_ feel better. I mean - that's what everyone but me does. I just throw a cheery "Hey, Wilson..." at some point and come up with another idiotic idea. But if he were so sensitive - why was he sentencing me to this torture?!

I went to the bedroom while Wilson was doing the dishes after the dinner. I swallowed a double dose of Vicodin and still I couldn't sleep. I was haunted by the memories of all of Wilson's hospital romances that I knew about or that I suspected (which was pretty much the same thing). In my imagination I could see what was about to happen soon - I saw myself coming home to an empty apartment, throwing my jacket on the floor, walking to the kitchen, taking the last bottle of beer out of the empty fridge and stumbling on the empty pizza box on the floor on my way to the living room...

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted my musings. I was lying with my face to the door, so I closed my eyes and tried to breath as if I were asleep. It was dark in the room, so I hoped that Wilson wouldn't notice anything. I heard him stopping in the doorway and I realized he was watching me. Then he came up to the bed. I felt his warm hand sliding over my left thigh and his delicate lips, pecking my temple. For the first time, just for a short moment, I felt like everything was just fine.

**-------------------------------------------------------**

At a quarter to five I went out on the balcony, to make sure that Wilson was getting ready to leave. I saw him organizing the patients' files on his desk and putting some of them inside his briefcase, to work on them at home. I went back to my office, took my backpack and went to the parking lot, to wait for Wilson by the car.

"I have no idea how it's possible we didn't meet for a whole day today." He shook his head and walked up to me. Fortunately there was quite a lot of people around and Wilson didn't try to kiss me. He just touched the back of my hand, the one holding the cane. I fought the impulse to take my hand away.

"Even when I went to get you a moment ago, Cameron said you had left few minutes earlier... Did something happen?"

I looked at him incredulously. _I was the one who wanted to know what the hell was happening!_ I yelled in my head.

"Noting... Nothing at all."

He squeezed my hand and tried to look me in the eye, but I turned my head away.

"It's the leg, isn't it?" I heard concern in his voice and once again was surprised at how well he could act.

I nodded slightly, gaining an excuse for another "quiet evening".

"Get in, we're going home."

In a car, Wilson tried to start a conversation several times, but when I answered in only angry grunts, he finally gave up. I sat next to him, gripping my right thigh. If he really wanted to drag this out, I wasn't going to stop him.

When we were almost home, I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was watching the road and seemed fully concentrated on driving. As if he was afraid any second now we would hit a tree that for some unknown reasons decided to suddenly appear at the middle of the street.

I turned my head towards Wilson. I always liked to watch his profile. Especially on Sunday mornings, in my bedroom, when half of his face was buried in a pillow and there were single rays of sunshine coming through the drapes and shining on him... _Give it up, House! This is not the time for sentimental trip down the memory lane_, said a voice in my head. I shook myself out of it. The voice was right - there will be time for the memories once everything's over. Providing I will feel like recollecting anything then.

I began to watch him carefully. And then I saw it. The mixture of worry, guilt and fear, painted on his face. I had seen this before, but in somebody else. I had seen it in Stacy, before she said she was leaving. I squeezed my eyes shut and slowly let out a breath through the open mouth, to stop the scream that was rising in my chest. This can't be real...

When we came inside the apartment, I fell on a couch and closed my eyes. I felt my leg beginning to hurt more, but I didn't reach inside my pocket for the bottle of Vicodin. Yes, I wanted to feel this pain. I wanted it to hurt like all hell, because maybe then I could stop feeling the much worse pain, tearing at my heart.

I flinched, when he put his hands on my shoulders.

"I prepared a bath for you" he said quietly. "I know it doesn't always help, but maybe you'll feel better."

_Yeah, sure_.

I didn't need a bath. I needed an explanation. Now I just wanted to be sure that everything was over. But at the same time a small part of me wouldn't let me ask...

I grabbed my cane and stood up. Wilson's hands gently slid off my shoulders and I felt... sorry for him? No, impossible!

I went to the bathroom without a word and slammed the door behind me, making it clear that I didn't need his company.

A half hour later I got out of the bathtub and stood on wet, cold tiles, when I heard the phone ringing.

"I'll get it!" I heard Wilson calling from the living room.

"Good" I muttered.

And then I realized how absurd the situation was. I never pick up the phone. I always wait for the call to go to the machine and then... sometimes I do. There was no reason why Wilson would say that. I calmed my breathing, suddenly so loud I was worried that Wilson would hear it through all the walls separating us, and I carefully opened the bathroom door a fraction.

"Hi, Sharon", I heard his cheerful voice.

Now I completely held my breath, wanting to hear the rest of the conversation, but instead I heard his footsteps, leading towards the kitchen, and Wilson's voice became fainter, until I couldn't recognize the words.

I wrapped the towel around my waist and grabbed my cane. I never wished so badly I could tiptoe to the kitchen and eavesdrop without being noticed. I tried to walk without making a sound, but it was impossible. My heart was beating so hard that it seemed like the floor was vibrating. Blood racing through my veins hummed in my ears and, even though I was getting closer to the kitchen, I still couldn't hear Wilson's voice.

Finally I stood right in front of the kitchen door. My heart stopped suddenly. Wilson was standing right there, looking at me in surprise.

"I have to go" he said to the person on the other end of the phone and he hung up.


	4. Thursday

The phone. Fucking phone. Wilson's fucking phone. And ringing in the middle of the night... No, actually I knew it wasn't the middle of the night, because back then I had been lying in my bed, staring at the wall and thinking about what had happened in the evening...

Wilson, guilt clearly written on his face, was standing in the middle of the kitchen and looking at me expectantly. I nodded towards the phone in his hand.

"Who was that?"

"The hospital..." he hesitated. "My patient, Sharon."

"Yeah, I heard. Why did she call you at home? Didn't you give her your cell number?" Wilson's commitment always irritated me. He would pick up the phone at any time and run to the hospital, as if he were the only oncologist in the whole PPTH. Or in the whole New Jersey!

"I did, she must have lost it somewhere. The nurse gave her my home number."

Apparently he considered the conversation finished. He walked to the fridge.

"What do you want for dinner?"

_Some TRUTH, medium-rare, would be nice._

"Make whatever you want. I'm not hungry." I turned around and went to the bedroom.

When Wilson came to bed it was already after midnight. He didn't make a sound, sure that I was asleep. The mattress sunk when he was getting in and I only wished for one thing - let it finally end.

I opened one eye and glanced at the clock. 6:40 - Wilson should be in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. And above all, he should PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE. So why didn't he? I listened to the sounds of the apartment, but I didn't hear anything, except the ringing phone. Wilson wasn't there.

For a moment - despite everything - I was afraid he had packed his things and moved out without a word, but I saw a tie hanging over the back of a chair and one of his jackets on a hanger. I reached under the bed and found his suitcase. So he didn't move out. Not yet...

The phone stopped ringing a while ago, but I dragged myself out of bed anyway and limped to the kitchen, swallowing the first pills of the day on my way.

There were sandwiches and a note from Wilson waiting for me on the table.

_Cuddy called, she has some urgent matter to take care of, I had to go to the hospital at once.  
__Love you, J._

I crumpled the note and threw it in the trash, and then I called the hospital.

"Tell that moron he forgot his cell" I said without introduction as soon as I heard Cuddy's voice on the phone.

There was a moment of silence and I imagined Cuddy rolling her eyes, thinking about our argument. But apparently I was wrong.

"What the hell are you talking about, House?" came her irritated voice.

"Wilson..." I begun, but then I realized how naive I was being. "He's not with you?" I asked the question, even if I already knew the answer.

"No, why would you think..."

When I was slowly putting down the receiver, I heard her nervous voice:

"...something happen, House? Can you hear me?!"

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**

I was smiling inwardly. It was evening and I KNEW that I was only few hours from finding out the truth. Wilson's morning deception made me put all my energy into forming a plan that would force him to come clean. Finally around noon I had a brilliant idea - brilliant, because it was so simple that I couldn't believe I hadn't thought about it earlier.

Wilson and I were sitting on a couch. Some lousy comedy was on, but it didn't interest me at all. Out of the corner of my eye I kept watching Wilson, who, unlike me, was staring at the TV, as if it were the first time he ever saw this technological marvel.

"Wanna beer?" I asked suddenly, waking him up from the stupor.

He looked at me with surprise. He had a reason. That was the first friendly sentence I spoke to him since that conversation before lunch on Tuesday.

"Sure", he smiled.

I went to the kitchen and after a while I handed him a bottle. I anxiously watched him take a first sip. He frowned and I froze, afraid that he tasted the little "something" I poured inside. After a moment that seemed to go on forever, Wildon took another sip and I could let out a relieved breath and concentrate on my own beer.

In situations like this I always wondered how Wilson, after three divorces, didn't learn to hold his drink. And after all those years being an oncologist... God only knows how many of his colleagues ended up in rehab. Repeatedly.

"Another one?"

Wilson noticed with surprise that his bottle was empty. He put it down on the table and nodded. I noticed the corner of his mouth twitching in a familiar way. So it would be quicker than I expected...

I came back with four bottles...

I watched slowly relaxing Wilson with amusement and satisfaction. That was exactly what I had in mind - to make Wilson completely unable to control himself.

I knew it was time, when Wilson was halfway through with his third bottle and giggled without restraint at a particularly pathetic scene...

I put a hand on his knee. He didn't notice... _Damn! If I overdid it, Wilson would fall asleep before I manage to drag anything out of him!_ I slowly slid my hand up his thigh. Finally the giggling stopped and I could breathe easier again.

"Wilson..." I whispered, trying to sound seductive.

He looked at me and smiled uncertainly. I leaned in a kissed his neck and then moved along the line of his jaw, closer and closer to his lips.

"I don't... don't think this is..." he muttered, but I silenced him with a searing kiss.

He stiffened for a moment. I buried my fingers in his hair and Wilson immediately relaxed. He moaned softly and returned the kiss. I smiled with satisfaction and moved away.

"I don't think this is a good idea" he said, his voice shaking.

"Your lips say 'no', but you eyes..." in one practiced move I opened his pants and slipped my hand inside. I felt him come alive under my touch. "You still think it's a bad idea?" I whispered, tracing his ear with a soft touch of my lips.

Wilson shivered. He leaned towards me, but I moved away from him.

"I know where we can be more comfortable" I said, before he managed to speak.

I got up from the couch and started towards the bedroom. He wobbly followed after me. I turned around after few steps and saw him staggering and trying to get his shirt off. _Perfect..._

When he managed to reach the bedroom, I was already sitting on the bed and waiting for him. He walked up to me. I kissed his stomach and slid his pants and boxers off his hips. He lost his balance and would have fallen, if he hadn't grabbed my shoulders at the last moment.

"I think it would be better if you lay down" I mocked him and threw him on a bed like a rag doll.

I swiftly got rid of my clothes and joined Wilson on the bed. I leaned over him and kissed his mouth urgently. I felt his delicate hands wandering over my back and I felt regret that this almost certainly would be the last time...

I tore myself from his lips and looked at him. His eyes were closed and he was breathing shallowly. With a smile and pecked his lips once more and begun a slow journey south... My lips ghosted over his neck and collarbones, driving him insane...

I realized how much I would miss his smell, the taste of his skin, all those mornings when we woke up holding each other... I knew it wasn't possible, but I wanted, with all my heart, to - when I would lock the door behind him - be able to erase all those painful memories. Or just die...

When I got closer, I could feel how fast his heart was beating. A short moan escaped his lips. I smiled again. _It will be so easy..._ I put my hands on Wilson's hips and he clenched the sheets in his fists and held his breath.

"What are you hiding, Jimmy?" I whispered.

"Greg... Please..."

"Tell me, Jimmy..."

He lifted himself on his elbows, with the expression of a puppy that just had a bone taken away right from under its nose.

"Tell me the truth" I said gently. "Not everything is lost yet..." Yes, that was a lie, but I believed that he wouldn't notice, dazed with alcohol and desire. _And that he would tell me all the truth._

"I don't know what you're talking about..." he whispered in return and reached up to my face.

Damn it! I sat up on the mattress.

"You know very well" I said harshly. "You're cheating on me and you thought I wouldn't find out!"

Wilson sat up too, moving away from me, suddenly completely sober.

"You lost it, House. Why would you think that?! You know I would never..."

"Is that the story you told your three wives?!"

Wilson froze and then jumped out of the bed. For a moment he stood in front of me, hands clenched in tight fists. And then he turned around and left, slamming the door.

Silence surrounded me. I lay down on the bed and reached for the Vicodin on the nightstand. The bitterness of the pills, melting on my tongue, mixed with the bitterness of failure.

_This is the end_, I thought, unconsciously pressing my face to Wilson's pillow.


	5. Friday

I don't know when I fell asleep, but I was woken up by Wilson's smell. With relief I thought that the last three days - and especially last night - were just a twisted nightmare. The corners of my mouth lifted involuntarily when I imagined my hand reaching out and touching his soft, tousled hair.

I slowly opened my eyes and felt as if I was hit by a speeding bus with the word _Reality _written on the side in huge letters. Wilson wasn't there and I was laying on his side of the bed, with my face buried in his pillow.

_God damn it!_

I hazily remembered what had happened last night... What I had done. And what I had SAID... And Wilson's face, twisted in anger, before he turned around and left the room.

He must have spent the night on a couch. Or maybe he didn't waste time on sleep, just packed his things and moved out to a hotel... Or to his...

_"You lost it, House. Why would you think that?! You know I would never..."_

His words circled in my head. They sounded so... so sincere. _House, you idiot, he practiced it so many times that he could fool his own mother! _something screamed in my head, but I didn't want to listen. Wilson has always been with me, for all those years, despite all the trouble I got him into, despite the fact that I was a bastard... _You STILL are a bastard! _That voice again. But now I couldn't ignore it. It was true. I couldn't even have a honest conversation with the man I loved, instead I got him drunk and tried to trick him into confiding in me. I wish I could turn back the time...

My musings were interrupted by the smell of pancakes. It was barely perceptible through the closed door, but it was impossible to mistake it. _What was going on?!_

I picked my pants from the floor and took my Vicodin out of the pocket. After a short moment I was up and about, and I went towards the source of the smell.

Wilson was leaning against the cupboard with an amused expression.

"I knew this would wake you" he said when he saw me.

I watched him with surprise. I was waiting for him to say: 'After what happened yesterday, I know that I can no longer be with you. This breakfast is a goodbye present.'

Instead, Wilson walked up to me, put his arm around my waist and kissed me on the mouth. I was too surprised to do anything - but my body instinctively reacted and I kissed back, pulling him close to me.

"I'm sorry" he whispered, when he pulled away. "I'm sorry for this whole mess. I promise I will explain everything in the evening."

His mouth once more touched my lips and his hands ran over my spine, making me shiver.

"I've got to run" he whispered right to my ear, then he slowly started towards the door, grabbing his bag from the couch on the way.

I watched him leave and I thought that once the door slammed behind him, I'd wake up in an empty bed, empty apartment, empty world. But Wilson didn't slam the door, he closed them quietly, and I was left with my breakfast, coffee and a torrent of thoughts, whirling in my head.

**-------------------------------------------------------**

At the hospital I reflexively watched him, all the time. All right, I was doing that on purpose, but at least I made sure he wouldn't notice. Fortunately he acted like a polite oncologist should - he saw several patients, wandered around his ward, sat alone in his office, doing some paperwork... I didn't notice anything that might make me suspicious.

I felt the stress of the last few days leaving me. I threw my ball in the air, or against the wall, killing time and thinking about what would happen in the evening.

Those Friday evenings were Wilson's idea. He insisted that once a week - no matter what - they ate dinner at the table, instead of in front of the TV, and talked about serious things. Usually Wilson was the one talking, and I "listened" - glancing at my watch every two minutes - to yet another lecture about Vicodin, the way I treat patients, how immature it is to force Cameron to do my clinic hours all the time... Luckily, most times Wilson couldn't look at my hurt/bored face for too long and finally we gathered are plates to move to the couch. And even when he didn't want to leave the table, he always _made it up to me..._

With every passing moment my curiosity about what Wilson had to tell me grew. I believed - or I wanted to believe, at all cost - that I had nothing to worry about. But some part of me couldn't discard my worries that something bad happened after all. Maybe one of his ex-wives got sick and he feels the obligation to take care of her? Or maybe he suddenly found out he was a father and the kid's mother wants him back, or force him to take care of his child? No, that's ridiculous - Wilson was always careful... But _accidents_ do happen.

At the thought that someone might try to take Wilson away from me, I felt like going to him immediately and forcing him to tell me the truth. I knew it wouldn't work and I had to be patient. But why did it have to be so damn hard?!

I heard the door to my office open. Reluctantly I stopped playing with the ball and stared out of the window for a moment.

I was hoping it wasn't one of the members of my team - barging in like that could mean, that we had a case, and that would almost certainly ruin my plans for the evening. Well, _plans_... I was just hoping that Wilson would share something trivial with me, something that can be dealt with in no time, and that once I assure him that's the case - we'll go on one of those fascinating journeys together - the ones starting in the kitchen, leading through the living room and the bathroom, all the way to our bedroom...

I turned slowly and to my relief I saw Wilson, standing with his hands on his hips and staring at me.

"That sexy pose doesn't work on me anymore. I won't go with you to your office to play doctor" I said and threw the ball at him.

He caught it with one hand and rolled his eyes.

"Still, I deserve something" he said, throwing the ball back. "Cuddy made me do your clinic hours for today."

I looked at him with disbelief.

"She said you didn't show up and you were impossible to deal with lately, so even if she managed to drag you in, you'd probably spend a whole hour watching 'General Hospital' with your patient and convincing him it's the best cure for all ailments."

I laughed, seeing his mock outrage and I gestured to him. He walked up to me and sat down on my left thigh, putting his arm around me. I kissed his neck gently and he giggled quietly, feeling my rough stubble scratching against his skin.

"It's all your fault. You know that I can't function properly when I have some mystery distracting me."

He laughed out loud at that. "House, since I've known you, you NEVER functioned _properly_. In the common sense of the word."

"Well, the world is full of mysteries... Like this one: Why do my pants become too tight when you are around..."

He blushed and stood up, almost tripping over his own legs.

"Do you always have to..."

I nodded energetically, grinning at him.

Wilson raised his hands with an expression that said "God, why is this happening to me?!" and then he let them drop helplessly.

"Actually I came to tell you that I have to stay at the hospital a little bit longer, because Annie is starting a new round of chemo today and she asked me to stay with her."

Red warning light went off in my head, but it quickly disappeared when I remembered that Annie was only eleven and was one of Wilson's favorites.

I sighed exaggeratedly, showing how much it hurts me to be told I don't come first. Wilson stood still, waiting for me to say something. I stood and walked up to him. I reached for his tie and slowly weaved the material through my fingers, gazing into Wilson's chocolate eyes. I could see clearly that he was waiting for me to grab the tie, pull him to me and kiss him. Instead my lips curved in a sarcastic smile. I let the tie go and smoothed it, running my hand over Wilson's chest.

"See you at home" I said. I turned and walked out, leaving him alone in my office.

**-------------------------------------------------------**

I was sitting on the couch, channel surfing, not able to concentrate on anything. I wished Wilson was home already, preparing that dinner of his, not sitting in the hospital and trying to save the world. I almost jumped when instead of the sound of the key in the lock I heard the phone ringing. After few moments the call went to the machine and I heard Wilson's voice.

"I'm sorry, but you will have to wait for me a while longer. Annie had an allergic reaction, I have to make sure that she's fine." He hung up.

Damn it! Doesn't he know I'm waiting for him here? Or maybe he's intentionally putting coming home off.

My brain automatically started to analyze everything I heard. Was Wilson calling from his office? Probably, but I wasn't sure. Didn't matter anyway. Hospital romances were his specialty. Maybe when he decided to call me, some patient or nurse already had her hands on his zipper? I wanted to simply believe the story about Annie, but I couldn't.

I waited patiently for over an hour. Then I run out of patience, but I still couldn't do anything. Well, actually I could - jump on my bike and go to the hospital, or call Wilson and ask him what was going on - but you know, that wouldn't be my style. If I had to stay longer at work, I never called him at home. In the end Wilson started calling Cameron to find out if everything was all right with me, or he came to the hospital...

The fact that he hasn't called yet was unusual.

I considered all possibilities - including the _obvious_ one - and I reached the conclusion that THAT explanation couldn't be true. If he was late because he was seeing some woman, he would surely call to give me some kind of an excuse. Wilson always deceived his wives so long, because he didn't want to hurt them. Fucking altruist - he wanted whole world to be happy, and it would be perfect if he could keep his good name through all of this...

I slowly started getting angry. Mainly at myself, for believing in his honesty yesterday. I shouldn't have gone to sleep, I should have followed him and threw him out of my apartment. And that show in the morning... He must have known right from the start that he wasn't going to tell me anything in the evening, because he wasn't planning on coming home tonight. Little Annie was always a wonderful excuse for me to let him out of my sight. Well, if that's what he wants... he can have it, always!

Three hours later the anger was gone without a trace. Against myself I started to feel really worried. It was almost 11 PM and still not a word from Wilson. Whatever he was doing, he should be done by now. And what if... No, that was a stupid thought. Nothing could have happened to him. If he had an accident, I would already know about it. I froze, thinking about what would happen if anything bad happened to him. All it would take was getting robbed in the parking lot. Then MY Jimmy could end up as another John Doe in one of the hospitals and I would have no idea. No, that can't be true! Desperately I thought that I would forgive him everything - or at least I'd try - if only he appears at the door right now. Or that I would let him do anything, if only he stayed close - at least in the office next to mine. I couldn't imagine, how my life would look like, if I were never to see him again...

And just then, when the darkest possible scenario formed in my mind, I heard footsteps behind the door. I jumped off the couch and, ignoring the pain in my leg, walked towards them. I threw them open when Wilson was trying to put the key in the lock.

He looked horrible. He was pale, dark shadows under his eyes, disheveled hair. He was barely standing and didn't even look at me when he was passing me in the doorway. Dragging his feet, he walked to the couch and threw his tie on it. He straightened up, slowly let out a deep breath and started taking off his jacket, wincing as if he was taking off his skin. He threw it on the back of the couch and dragged himself to the bedroom, not caring that the jacket slid down and fell on the floor. That could only mean one thing - MIGRAINE.

I felt wave of relief - nothing happened to him. He came back home - even if because of his migraine I'll have to get up at night to pick him up from the bathroom floor, when he goes there to throw up. It had happened several times before, sometimes those attacks were so severe that the next day we both stayed at home, because he wasn't able to go to work, and Cuddy allowed me to stay and take care of him.

But with the relief the doubts came back. What is this is just another trick? It's easy to fake migraine - you just have to look like a ball of misery and it's done.

I turned off the TV and the light in the living room, and I went to the bathroom. In the ray of light that crossed the bedroom I saw Wilson, laying on the bed in his clothes, with his head hidden under the pillow. I came closer and noticed that he didn't even take off his shoes, just lay down the same way he was when he left the living room.

I understood, or rather _felt_, that he wasn't faking it after all. I carefully took off his shoes, put them next to the bed so that he wouldn't trip over them, and I put a blanket over him. Then I went to the window and drew the shades, so that the bright morning light wouldn't worsen his headache, at the same time sentencing me to few more hours of taking care of the indisposed Wilson.

Finally I lay down next to him and let the sound of Wilson's breath, coming from under the pillow, lull me to sleep.


	6. Saturday

Something tickled my neck. Then something brushed against my calf. And then the same thing snuggled close to me in it's sleep.

_WILSON!_

I sighed quietly and breathed in his smell. I haven't even realized how much I missed it. I put my right arm around him and smiled to myself. Apparently he felt better earlier and got up during the night, because now he was wearing only a t-shirt and boxers. I got lucky - Wilson with a migraine is the worst thing you can imagine!

I moved my hand up and trailed my fingers through his hair. He moved slightly and mumbled. He was trying to trick me into thinking he was still asleep. I smiled again and brushed his forehead with my lips.

"Hey" I whispered.

He muttered something, pretending to be irritated.

I traced the back of his neck with my fingertips.

He nestled even closer to me.

"How's your migraine?"

I felt him move his head to look at me. I intentionally didn't open my eyes.

"I was worried when you weren't coming home."

"If not for Cuddy I wouldn't come back AT ALL", he sighed. "She stayed till late in the hospital and when she was leaving, she saw my car in the parking lot. She found me on a couch in my office and somehow managed to drag me to her car... - he trailed of. He moved away from me and shifted, so that his face was now close to mine.

I opened my eyes and met his searching gaze.

"Did you just say you had been worried?!"

"Yeah..." I whispered and kissed him gently. "I was afraid I wouldn't find out what you wanted to tell me."

He shook his head in disbelief. "I knew you'd say something like this."

I propped myself up on my elbow and narrowed my eyes. He laughed and kissed me soundly. I kissed him back and when he was trying to pull away, I held him close. He didn't fight me much.

"You will have to wait until evening again" he said, when we stopped to catch our breaths.

"You can't tell me now?" I asked in a pleading voice and kissed him again.

"How am I supposed to tell you anything if you keep shoving your tongue in my mouth?"

I snorted and gave him a little push. "I can stop if you want me to..."

"Don't even think about it!"

He shifted closer to me and slipped his hand in my pants. I felt his hand on my right thigh. I stopped reacting to this touch with aversion a long time ago. As a doctor Wilson saw worse things, and as my friend and lover he could accept me the way I was. And it wasn't just because there was nothing that could be done about this. Wilson didn't try to change me - and I think I loved him for this the most.

I looked into his chocolate eyes when he moved his hands upwards. The sparks I could see in them were only partially caused by his excitement. The real cause was the pleasure from _torturing_ me. When he was very close, he leaned down and kissed me. This morning he wanted to be the _Game Master_...

He touched me through my boxers and purred with delight, not breaking the kiss. I moaned softly when I felt his gentle touch, begging him to hurry up.

He backed off a little and took his hand away. Leaning on my elbows, I lifted my hips slightly and he slipped my pants off.

He was close again. His warm, soft hand enveloped me and his mouth found mine again. He kissed me lazily and his hand moved slowly. I felt blood course faster through my veins, warmth spreading through my entire body.

Even if I wanted to fight Wilson, I wouldn't be able to, because the unending kiss successfully limited my oxygen supply. Wilson's lips widened in a satisfied smile when he noticed that he had full control over me.

_The next time I would have to put him straight... _But right now I only closed my eyes and let him do whatever he wanted.

I don't know how long it lasted, because I lost the track of time completely. Wilson made the whole world disappear. There was only me and him, and what we had together. Nothing else mattered. Maybe it was because of this week, but I was hoping this moment would never end...

Finally I heard a loud groan. I realized it came from my mouth when I sagged, exhausted, on top of Wilson. We were both breathing hard and I could hear strong and fast beating of our hearts.

Wilson recovered first and gently pushed me off him. I moved to my half of the bed and opened my eyes. With surprise I saw that Wilson was about to get up.

"Where are you going, Jimmy? I think it's time for payback." My voice didn't sound as firm as I would have wished, because I was still out of breath.

"I have to go buy some groceries. Yesterday all I found in the fridge was light and the empty carton of milk, which you AGAIN didn't throw out." He glowered at me.

"Oh come on, groceries can wait..."

"You don't want breakfast?" he went for my weak spot.

"No, a light snack at best." I send him a meaningful smile.

He shook his head and stood.

"Behave, House, or I won't tell you anything in the evening" he said and started towards the bathroom.

"So you're not gonna tell me earlier?" I said, almost flippantly.

"Houssse... AFTER dinner!"

"But why?" I whined, like a kid forbidden to eat sweets before dinner.

"I think... you will take it better when you have a full stomach" he called, disappearing behind the door. After a moment he stuck his head out of the bathroom. "Think about what you want me to cook."

"I don't care. But I'd like to pick the dessert..."

He went out of the bathroom and stood, putting his hands on his hips. "Yeah?"

"How about... an oncologist in whipped cream???"

I watched him laugh and roll his eyes.

"Sounds great" he said finally. "But where am I going to get an oncologist on a Saturday?"

"I know you'll think of something."

He laughed and went back to the bathroom.

He came back fifteen minutes later. Dressed in jeans and t-shirt, with his hair wet - the way he looked, I wanted to jump him... And if that hadn't been enough - he sat down on the bed next to me to tie his shoes.

I sat up, put my arms around him and propped my chin on his shoulder.

"Do you really have to go?"

"Really" he leaned down to tie the other shoe.

He straightened up and turned towards me.

"Don't act as if I was going to the end of the world" he said and kissed me gently. "When I'm back, maybe we can finish this _conversation_..."

"Maybe?..."

"Under one condition...."

I knew very well what he was about to say, but I wanted to confirm my hunch. "What condition?"

"Do the laundry while I'm gone."

Resigned, I rolled my eyes. "Someone should start making disposable clothes. They would make a fortune!"

"Riiight..." Wilson was already standing by the door. "Ah, one more thing. Do me a favor and pack up my suits, I need to take them to the dry-cleaner's."

I threw a pillow at him, but he stepped aside and it hit the wall.

"See you later, House." And he left.

I fell back on the pillows and reached for Vicodin. I know that in the end I would have to do it all anyway, but I didn't have to hurry. Wilson wouldn't be back sooner than in two hours, with the trunk full of supplies for the whole week. I wondered if he would remember the whipped cream...

I slowly got out of bed and dragged myself to the kitchen to check if there were any beers left. Unfortunately Wilson was right - the fridge was empty, except for light and the empty milk carton.

I made myself coffee and with a half-finished box of crackers, I went to sit on a couch. I flipped through the channels for fifteen minutes, but I couldn't find anything interesting. Reluctantly I had to admit that I was looking for something that would distract me from thinking about Wilson's secret. I wished he were already back, so that I could be sure he wasn't plotting anything behind my back.

Finally I went to the bathroom. I started the laundry and took a quick shower. _Now all that was left were Wilson's damned suits._

I pulled the bag from the closet and threw it on the bed. I started taking the jackets Wilson wore this weak off the hangers. _His life - and mine - could be so much simple, if only he dressed like me..._

I started going through all the pockets, hoping I would find some change. If I had to do this "dirty work", I should at least be compensated... I checked all the jackets, except the one, he wore at the beginning of the week.

I put my hand in the pocket and found a crumpled paper napkin. I unfolded it carefully. What I saw made my heart stop for a moment.

There was a phone number written on the thin, white paper. With red lipstick.

I stared at it and felt all the memories of Wilson's strange behavior come back to me - strange phone calls, disappearing without an excuse... _God..._

I felt dizzy, a sharp pain pierced my thigh, I heard the cane I dropped hit the floor, and...


	7. Sunday

**A/N: I'd be oh so happy if I could keep you in suspense a little bit longer, but I have to say 'good bye' to my laptop for about a week and I'm not that cruel *evil chuckle*  
****So, it's the final chapter. Thanks for reading and leaving comments. I'm glad you enjoy my work.  
*****hugs you all***

*************************************

...I fainted. Pathetic, I know. But it was almost noon and all I had in my stomach was Vicodin, coffee and few old crackers, and in my hand I held a proof that Wilson had been cheating on me... Who wouldn't faint in a situation like this?!

I don't know how much time passed, but when I started to come to consciousness, I realized with surprise that instead of hard floor there was a familiar, warm lap under my back.

"House, you idiot, what have you done to yourself this time?? Open your eyes..." I heard Wilson's worried voice.

_Perfect! Why couldn't I crack my skull when I fell? With a little luck my body would be already on it's way to the morgue and my soul would be wandering around Hell, or some other place much better than here..._

"House? Can you hear me? Come on, wake up already! Don't do this to me..."

_Actually, why not? Because instead of meeting your lady you would have to sit next to my bed, or make funeral arrangements, to save your reputation? It would be fun to watch from somewhere above, as you suffer through several months of mourning, so that people wouldn't talk about how soon you found "comfort"..._

"House... Please..."

He checked the pulse on my neck with one hand, the other gently stroked my face.

I knew I wouldn't manage to die here and now, so I slowly opened my eyes.

"House... Thank God..."

I saw Wilson leaning over me. His eyes were moist and panic was being slowly replaced by relief. _Two-faced son of a bitch..._

"House, what the hell happened?..."

I shot him a hateful look and opened my fist, still holding that fucking napkin.

He looked at it, then at my face, and again at the napkin. Uncertainty and embarrassment appeared on his face, as if he were waiting for an explanation. But after a while he understood and... started laughing hysterically. Until tears were streaming down his face...

I wanted to sit up, to show him that I could take care of myself, that I didn't need him, but my head spun and I fell back into him, and he held my arms. I waited for him to say something, but he was laughing so hard that he couldn't get a single word out. Finally he reached inside his pocket, took out a key-ring and threw it on my stomach. The keys seemed familiar and for a moment I thought he decided to give me back the keys to the apartment. _After so many years... Just like that..._ But I soon realized these weren't the keys to my place. Even so, I had seen them before somewhere...

Finally Wilson regained his composure and looked at me... with affection?

"House... Never in my life did I think that I should expect this from you..." he shook his head in disbelief.

_And what did you expect after so many years?! That we would kiss goodbye and then I would stand in a doorway waving a white handkerchief?!_

"Were you really that jealous of me?..."

_No, damn it! I only cared about the Vicodin prescriptions!_

He leaned down to kiss me, but I shoved him away and finally sat up. The keys landed on the floor with a clink.

"Why don't you cut the crap?! Pack your things and get the fuck out of here! Do you want me to call her to pick you up?" I threw the crumpled napkin at him.

Wilson's face became serious.

"Understand, House, I'm not cheating on you!" he said with complete sincerity, looking me straight in the eye. "It never even cross my mind..."

"Right. And I just missed the moment when you started writing down important phone numbers on napkins with lipstick!"

"No... It's not like this, House... It's just Sharon..."

_Of course, that explains everything..._

He must have noticed my irritation, because he quickly added: "Sharon is Bonnie's friend. She works in real estate too..." He stopped.

I sent him a would-you-cut-to-the-chase-already?! look. Wilson smiled nervously.

"You know, I thought we could use a... change. I called Bonnie to ask her if she didn't have any houses out of town. She told me that Sharon dealt with it... And she found that house for me... The one we went to a week ago..." He stopped again, waiting for me to say something, but I preferred to wait for him to explain everything. "She showed me the photos, but I explained to her that I had to know your opinion first, so she gave me the keys..."

Right, now I remembered. I saw them when he dropped them, because while he was trying to lock the door after are weekend trip, I was trying to give him a hickey...

"I met her on Tuesday..."

_Ah, yes..._

"...She told me to call the owner and go over the details... And she wrote his number down for me..."

"None of you had a pen?" I asked sarcastically.

Wilson laughed, clearly embarrassed. "It just happened like this..."

"Then why all the mystery? Why couldn't you just tell me?"

"I knew how you would react..."

"And how is that?"

"You would yell that it's stupid... And besides, it was supposed to be a surprise..." he looked at me uncertainly.

"It is stupid. And I hate surprises" I smiled at him with exasperation. "God, Wilson, how do I put up with you?..."

He shrugged. _So like Jimmy..._

"Did you buy the house in the end?"

"Yeah... I couldn't come to an agreement with the guy, but finally we settled it. I got the keys today... Maybe..." he hesitated and looked at me. I nodded impatiently. "Maybe we can eat something and go there?"

I felt like an idiot after all this, but I would never tell him this. The only way between admitting I was wrong and going along with it was agreeing to a trip...

**-------------------------------------------------------**

All that had happened about twenty four hours ago. Now I was laying down, propped up on my elbow and watching sleeping Wilson. His lightly tanned skin nicely contrasted with white sheets.

I was surprised when after arriving he insisted that he had to mow the front lawn.

"You know, there are at least several things we could be doing _together_..." I begun, giving him a meaningful look.

But when he stood in front of me and took off his t-shirt...

"If you ever get bored with oncology, I know that club..." I said when he threw the t-shirt at me.

"I don't believe that you would be willing to share the view with anyone" he laughed and got back to work.

"I think you're right" I said finally, unable to tear my eyes from him.

Now I couldn't do it either. As always I regretted that I didn't get a chance to watch him sleep more often. He looks so... _How could I suspect him of an affair?!_ Saying nothing of his past. For a moment I felt anger that someone had watched the same thing I did... On the other hand - I don't think anyone ever had a chance to catch the smell of whipped cream coming from Wilson...

After the _long_ night yesterday we didn't have the energy to shower. And Wilson said the sheets had to be washed anyway (or _burned_), so we just fell asleep, not worried about anything.

The memory of last night made me lean down and touch his shoulder with my lips. Feeling the sweet taste of his skin I smiled, without breaking the contact.

"Mmm... House... What's going on?" he asked, his voice heavy with sleep. Apparently he wasn't sleeping as soundly as I thought.

"I have to go to the hospital right away" I said, completely serious. "Some emergency..."

He smiled when he heard that obvious lie and opened his eyes. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand and for one second a flash of panic appeared on his face - as always when he realized that he was in bed and it was already past eight. Right now it was almost noon.

He turned towards me.

"Do you think you can get a hangover from the whipped cream?..."

"Only if you mix it with a bottle of wine."

"God..." he moaned pitifully and I couldn't keep from smiling.

After a while Wilson sat up and stretched... Well, at least he tried, because when he lifted his arms, he hissed and fell back on the pillows with a pained expression.

"I told you you were made for _greater_ things than mowing lawns..."

He sent me a displeased look and I bent down to kiss him.

"And I'm all sticky..." he muttered with distaste. "And so are you."

"I know how to get rid of the headache and the excess whipped cream..." I whispered into his ear and glanced towards the bathroom.

Happy sparks appeared in the chocolate eyes. "Do you mean...?"

"No" I interrupted him curtly, returning to my half of the bed. "I just wanted to sleep a while longer, while you're getting yourself back to working order."

Now he propped himself on his elbow. His expression said something between 'I hate you and you know it' and 'pleasepleasepleaseplease...'

"Wake me up when you make something to eat. I'm starving" I said indifferently and closed my eyes.

I heard a quiet snort and in my imagination I could see Wilson get up and drag himself towards the bathroom...

But, to my surprise, my little Jimmy tore the blanket off me and one second later he was on top of me, planting frantic kisses on my face. I opened my eyes and looked at him with interest.

"Either you get your ass to the bathroom right now, or you're _walking _back home..." he said and went back to kissing.

Well, as I said - Wilson can be very convincing if he wants to...

Two hours later I was sitting on out porch, waiting for Wilson to pack up our stuff.

I wanted to stay in our little love nest until evening, but Wilson said decisively that he didn't plan the trip and there was a pile of paperwork waiting for him at home. _He will never change..._

He finally came with two bags and carried them straight to the car. Then he disappeared inside the house for a moment and came back to the porch with a beer for me and a diet coke for him. He sat next to me and smiled without a word. I smiled back and emptied half of my bottle in one swig. For a while we sat quietly, both lost in our own thoughts. Finally I decided to break the silence.

"You know..."

He looked at me with surprise, raising his eyebrows.

"What... What I said on Thursday..." I regretted even opening my mouth. _What the hell was I supposed to say now?!_ "What I said on Thursday was actually your fault. You shouldn't have behaved like you were cheating on me..."

Wilson thought about it for a moment and then he turned to me.

"Was that... an apology?..."

I nodded curtly. "Yeah..."

He hugged me and pulled me to him.

"I love you" he said with mock indifference, finishing up his coke.

"Me, too" I sighed.

He pushed me with a slight smile. That was the only answer he could expect from me, most of the time. He got up and handed me my cane.

"Get up. I don't want to get stuck in traffic all evening."

He locked the door and, just to make sure, checked all the windows to see if any were left open. I was waiting for him on the porch steps and then together - as always, side by side - we walked to the car.

I glanced behind me, at _our_ house... I couldn't stop myself - I put my arm around his waist, pulled him close and kiss him hard. As always, he returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm.

"Yeah" I muttered, when I broke off the kiss. "Now we can go."

**The End**

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**A/N once again: Btw, if someone has an idea of a plot for similar story, PLEASE let me know. I'd like to write something like this again ;-) (though I can't promise I'll find someone who'll translate it from Polish into English *sulks* )**


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